


More than champagne

by haku23



Category: Marvel Ultimates
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/pseuds/haku23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is taking a bath when Steve comes in. They have a chat that leads to depressing sex that's about it. Set after Ultimates 19 so spoilers for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More than champagne

**Author's Note:**

> So as the tags say this is mildly dubious consent. It's more like...it SEEMS like dubious consent? I mean, it's kind of muddled but I did write this from the POV of Steve ultimately WANTING to touch Tony's dick(because pretty much no one can make Steve do something he doesn't want to do) but the actual content of the fic is from Tony's POV so it's...yeah, muddled.

He hears Steve calling him before he hears the door open.  
  
"Dammit, Stark," Steve growls, turns around quickly, and puts his hands on his hips.  
  
"What is it? Must be important if you just barge in here while I'm taking my bath," he smirks, pours a handful of water over his chest, and groans. He hasn't had a proper bath in ages-not since the whole thing with Reed had started so he fully intends to work in his head until the water gets cold.  
  
"Fury's a traitor."  
  
"Well it's not much of a surprise, is it?" he settles further into the water, sighs loudly enough that Steve's shoulders tense.  
  
"I'm not having this conversation with you now."  
  
"Oh calm down, we're both men."  
  
"That's your justification?" Steve doesn't sound impressed but he doesn't leave either.  
  
Tony laughs, settles deeper into the water, "it's hardly a justification, darling. Go ahead, I'm listening."  


"Someone's been selling SHIELD weapons to Hydra," the word 'Hydra' is spat out like a dirty word which it is to him of course. They're Nazis for god sakes. "Monica says it's Fury."  
  
"And what does the president think?"  
  
"Tony."  
  
"Well you are. What does Steve Rogers think then?"  
  
"He lied to me. All of that bull about doing good for king and country and he's selling weapons to Nazis," he snarls and Tony shivers. He's delightfully aggressive when he's angry-the kind that makes Tony do all sorts of depraved things to him in his fantasies. Of course they're only fantasies.  
  
"And you came to me before you ran off to beat him to a pulp. Why?" he supposes it must mean he needs money or something else that only Tony can give him. Weapons maybe.  
  
Steve huffs out a breath, "I need you at my back."  
  
"Why not Thor? He's practically Hydra's ideal man," Tony takes a sip of his martini, "or even Clint."  
  
"They need Barton here."  
  
He doesn't say anything about Thor and Tony chuckles, "why Steve, I didn't know you felt so strongly about me."  
  
"We're taking your jet tomorrow morning. Get some sleep," he starts to go but halts in place when Tony squawks at him.  
  
"Well what do I get out of this? The satisfaction of a job well done of course..."  
  
"Are you..." and Steve turns to look at him again, growls when he's faced with Tony's blatant nudity but doesn't avert his gaze again, "propositioning me, Stark?"  
  
"Are you going to have me hanged for treason if I say yes?"  
  
He glares but the tips of his ears are red. It's a good look on him but then, everything is. His nostrils flare and he mumbles out a "no" that echoes through the bathroom so that there's no way either of them could deny hearing it.  
  
"Come on then."  
  
"Tony."  
  
"Don't be shy, I am a charming devil," he smirks and Steve opens the door as if he'll step out, "oh stop with the prude act, my dear, you slept with a married woman that's hardly virtuous."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"I don't know what she saw in Pym-my bets were all on divorce if you must know."  
  
"Why are you so-"  
  
"Oh I don't know."  
  
He doesn't and he knows how touchy Steve is about the entire fiasco with he and Jan and yet he says it anyway because it fills the space between them. It's probably all he can ask for that he coerces Steve into at least a handjob and he'll take it because he's learned not to be picky about affection. They both have.  
  
"Finish your bath," Steve says before leaving, closing the door firmly behind him.  
  
Tony does and when he finishes Steve is sitting on his bed without his shirt, hands on his knees, "you don't have to do this, you know."  
  
"Crisis of conscience?" Steve lifts his head. He's gorgeous in a way that very few people are and Tony isn't gay but Steve is handsome enough that he doesn't care.  
  
Tony saunters over in his bathrobe-he hasn't belted it tightly enough and it all but opens by the time he makes it to the bed, "I suppose."  
  
"You don't make a very good businessman," Steve leans back, opens his legs and rests back on his elbows.  
  
"So they tell me every morning," he doesn't move any closer because he god, he'd do anything Steve asked even if it killed him but he can't say that out loud. Not to his face and maybe he is picky. Maybe he wants this to be better than an exchange of services even if he doesn't trust in love anymore. That alone propels him forward. Love is a social construct, created to make money for rich men and even if it did exist it wouldn't be for him.  
  
"Are we doing this or not?"  
  
"Of course," he slips back into the mask he knows is what Steve expects to see and closes the space between them quickly so that he's positioned between his legs, "if you could see yourself you would want a harder look too."

 

“Hurry up.” 

 

When he kisses him it's not something new, really. He's kissed men before-other men handsome enough to make him not care-but this is Steve. This is Captain Ideal Man(everything Tony isn't), the leader of the free world, and he's not as shy as he makes himself out to be. He doesn't hesitate to shove his tongue in Tony's mouth quickly enough that he's dominating the motion now even from the strange position they're in. Steve pulls him down to the bed-on top of him but there's no hiding who thinks he's in charge of this operation and they both make some sort of noise. Steve's is harsher though it sounds forced and Tony thinks that Steve isn't above posturing to keep his title of The Man in tact. Tony doesn't mind being 'the girl' in his mind-it means nothing really and with how he's smaller than Steve everyone would see him as such anyway. Not that anyone would ever be finding out about this. He doesn't have many friends to tell anymore anyway. 

 

It isn't long before his hand slides down Steve's front and if he can just...touch him it's okay. They don't even have to have sex as long as he can put his hands on him and remember the feeling for when he's alone in bed later. It's pathetic. The Tony Stark of yesteryear would never have stood for this second-rate wish but then, that Tony had had some sort of future in mind. Steve's skin is smooth, not much hair and he doubts he waxes so it must be a serum thing, and a single pass of Tony's hand across his pecs has the flesh under it bristling with goosebumps. Steve is under him, lying with his feet on the floor and the rest of him on the bed-Tony has taken up residence on his thighs, stopped kissing him because he's not drunk enough yet to push back god, everything that's telling him that kissing him is a bad idea. Just touching is fine. 

 

“You're enjoying this,” he murmurs and Steve's eyes are half closed like a tamed cat's until he says that. 

 

“Do you always have to talk?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

He rubs his thumb across one of the pink nipples-they're obscene, really, like they belong to a pornstar and Tony has slept with a couple so he would know-and Steve sucks in a steady breath. Calming himself because this is probably so abhorrent to him but he needs Tony's money or jet or suit and this is the only way he can get it. 

 

“Fury was the one who told me I should come back.” 

 

“Is that why you did?” he feathers his fingers down Steve's abdomen, stopping when he reaches the waistband of his khaki pants. 

 

He swallows, takes another deep breath, “No.” 

 

“If you missed me you only had to say so,” Tony jokes and Steve's face is expressionless when he flicks his gaze upwards, “oh, you did.” 

 

“No. But you missed me.”

 

It's the truth. He'd even said it but he can't do anything but repeat what he'd said before. Otherwise it's too close to the actual truth and he doesn't think he loves Steve, no, yet it's not unlike it maybe. His lips twitch into a pale imitation of his smirk and it's too difficult to act in front of Steve but he doubts he notices a difference, “More than that fancy champagne you can't get anymore.”

 

Steve nods like he's filing away the information for later and Tony tries to interrupt him by kissing him again. All he needs is Steve getting the wrong idea about this. About Tony. 

 

He doesn't waste anymore time in pulling those ridiculous old man pants off-it's utilitarian rather than erotic but it makes Steve sigh with relief anyway. 

 

“Colour me surprised, Mr. President,” his eyebrows raise as he says it. Steve isn't wearing underwear and his cock is right there half hard from just kissing-Jan must have had her hands full in every sense of the word if just that can get him going. 

 

“Came from SHIELD. Was in the suit. Didn't have time.”

 

Tony hums, he understands the feeling after all and the idea that Steve had been anticipating this is just absurd. “Come on, move up, I'm not as young as I used to be.”

 

There'd been a time when he could have stood on his head or some equally awkward angle and sucked him off but now is most definitely not then. He gets enough neck strain from working on the suit as it is. Anyway Steve does move, takes direction well since he's military for all that he's spent the last week ignoring orders entirely. 

 

He's a sight. If Tony could paint he would paint this over and over again-Steve, perfectly muscled and beautiful Steve laid out on his bed with his hands behind his head on the pillows, legs open and bent as if he's utterly relaxed. Nothing in him betrays that this is him prostituting himself for whatever it is he needs Tony for. He still doesn't know why Steve wants him beside him in the fight of all people. It doesn't even make sense. He talks to his tumour for god sakes and the only reason he isn't constantly fall over drunk anymore is because finding alcohol is damn near impossible these days and he has to pace himself. It doesn't matter. Tony kneels in front of him, licks his lips unconsciously before positioning himself between his thighs. He kisses the inside of one and the skin under his lips jumps in chorus with the harsh breath Steve takes above him. 

 

“Did the serum do this or were you always so sensitive?” Tony doesn't wait for his answer before sucking a mark in the place he'd kissed a second ago, feels him getting harder when he does the same to the other leg. He tastes like sweat and a hint of leather so he probably hadn't been lying when he'd said he'd rushed over. It hardly matters. 

 

“Get on with it.”

 

“Impatient, my dear?” 

 

“Hurry up, Stark.”

 

He takes that as a yes and doesn't tease any more-he can't blame him for wanting this over quickly after all. His dick is big enough that he feels his lips stretch wide to accommodate it and this is what he's thought of doing since he'd first laid eyes on him. It's sad-incredibly pathetic is a better way of putting it-but he'll take what he can get. 

 

Steve isn't looking at him anymore when he looks up and one of his arms moves to lie across his eyes. Surely he can't be _that_ repugnant but Tony doesn't say anything. He tries not to talk with his mouth full, after all. He's probably not the best at sucking dick however he's been out of practice and what ultimately tips a person over the edge is different for everyone but Steve bites off moans, writhes like Tony is some sort of sex god, and runs his hand through his hair as if extending some sort of pale imitation of comfort. It works, he is comforted because the last person who had touched him like that had been Carol and it hadn't been in the same context. He isn't quite desperate enough to stop and just ask Steve to pet his hair though. He has to have some dignity left. 

 

When Steve comes it's down his throat and while he'd have appreciated more warning he swallows it anyway before pulling away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He's hard, there's no hiding it with how his robe is discarded now on the floor, and Steve reaches out for him. 

 

“It's alright,” the words are out before he can stop them because it's most certainly _not_ alright if Steve just leaves him with a hard on but he's ignored anyway. 

 

“I know.” 

 

Steve is still flushed-yet another good look on him-when he takes Tony in hand and jerks him off with well, military efficiency. He wants to ask if he's done this before because he must have or else he's just a natural but he's making a mess of Steve's hand before he gets a chance. 

 

He lays Tony down almost tenderly if Captain America has one of those for other men before leaving and returning with a washcloth. He tosses it over though Tony has no intention of catching it and it lands on his stomach with a faint slap. “You don't happen to have-”

 

“No, Tony.”

 

“Of course not.” 

 

Steve can't get drunk and even if he could he probably wouldn't because the only thing worse than seeing the person you've invested millions of dollars in lying unconscious in a gutter in the newspaper is seeing the person you've invested a whole country in doing the same. Tony sighs and Steve sits again on the side of the bed. 

 

It's a long moment of silence before he glances over his shoulder at him, expression as neutral as he can manage, “Get some rest.”

 

“Yes, mother.” 

 

As if he could do anything else. He could-should-stare at Steve still naked on his bed but he follows the borders of the ceiling instead. 

 

“I mean it, Tony. We're wheels up at 0500.” 

 

“Does it look like I'm going anywhere, darling? Because I can assure you my only plan is to lie exactly where I am.” 

 

Steve nods, stands, then yanks the blankets out from under him despite his protests. They cost _money_ , and he does try to take good care of his things despite what everyone on the team might think. It's simple to buy more, of course, but Jarvis will complain in his own way and Tony can't be bothered to put up with it or fire him. A moment later Steve has tucked him in-literally, he can't move his arms or legs-and pats him on the leg twice before striding to the door. He gives him one last look as though Tony will burst from bed like a wild thing, nods, and flicks off the light so that there's no discussion on whether or not Tony is going to sleep or not. 

 

“I'll call you in the morning.” 

 

The door closes behind him with a faint click and Tony Stark wonders if this is what the girls he'd told that feel like. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. That's that :'D. It's difficult to write from the POV of someone when you know the other person is interested but the person in the driver's seat doesn't notice. Like Steve doesn't come back for Tony, no, but he isn't like ew Tony is touching me he's you know...actually enjoying himself but doesn't want Tony to SEE he's enjoying himself because he's an old man who never smiles. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! U_U Now read Ultimates if you don't already! Tony saying he misses Steve more than champagne is a real thing guys and it's terrible but also kind of cute in an Ultimates way.
> 
> eta: I KNEW THIS WASN'T 5K. Oops I'm stupid but I fixed the double posting thing now....


End file.
